Winchester Rules
by Visionairy
Summary: Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and their dad are keeping something from him.  And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.
1. Chapter 1

Winchester Rules

**by Visionairy**

Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and his dad are keeping something from him. And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.

A/N: This story is dedicated to KKBelvis and based on a line from her story, A Spot to Remember – "And what about the tiny white spots decorating the back of Sam's throat, that time the kid got tonsillitis and had to have them removed. " Thanks, Karen, for your friendship, encouragement and all your wonderful stories!

* * *

Kicking his blanket off, Sam flipped his pillow over trying to find a cool dry spot. It was impossible to sleep in the overheated room, and he could still hear his brother and father talking quietly in the next room. For the tenth time that hour, he wondered what they were talking about.

1:24 AM … Dean said he was staying up to work on homework, and to go over with Dad. Sam may only be eight, but he wasn't stupid. Never having seen his dad actually look at Dean's school work, despite all the times Dad and Dean had to huddle to go over it, Sam wasn't buying it anymore.

Sam flipped over again, trying to find a comfortable spot on the uneven mattress. No matter where he moved, his sheets were damp with sweat. His right ear was still hurting, and his throat was really sore. This was the fifth time in the past year that he'd ended up like this - each time being dragged to the doctor with a sore throat and ear ache. Dad wasn't one to fuss over him if he was sick, but he had Dean keep a closer eye on him and make sure he took his medicine.

Sitting up in bed, he scooted over closer to the wall to see if he could hear anything, but all he could make out were their deep voices. Dean's voice had dropped over the last year, and now he could sound positively threatening when he wanted.

Sam couldn't wait till his voice lost it's higher tone, so he could sound more like them, and Dean would stop calling him Daphne. Trying to force down the urge to cough, Sam was reminded how badly his throat was burning. He really needed a glass of water. He looked around the room, but there was nothing available. Since there wasn't a cup in the bathroom either, they really couldn't blame him for going out there to get it.

Sliding over the side of the bed, Sam tried to find the one board bordering his bed that didn't creak. If he was more suspicious, he'd think they'd arranged that on purpose. If he were less determined, it would have stopped him.

Slowly he eased himself off the far end of the bed and stepped two boards over and then followed that board till he reached the wall where the boards were tightest. Hugging the wall, he circled the room until a long stretch to the fifth plank over took him in front of the door.

A little WD-40 on the door would have made his venture complete, but despite the fact that the Impala was oiled to perfection, every hinge between Sam and the kitchen in this small house screamed like an old tom cat. Slowly Sam eased the door open, hoping that the noise would not be heard down the hall.

Just as Sam had the door open far enough to squeeze through, the door suddenly swung wide open. Dean was smirking down at him. "What cha' doing up, squirt?"

Sam took a couple of steps back not caring if the boards squeaked now.  
"I was getting some water," Sam glared at his brother, "And who can sleep with all the 'homework' you and Dad are working on."

Dean ruffled his brother's hair and moved into the room. "Yep, but it's all done now." Walking to the opposite side of the room, Dean threw his old army surplus backpack on his bed, then grabbed a towel and headed back for the door – no boards squeaking along the way. "I'll get your water, Squirt, but get back into bed. Cause you know, of the two of us, you definitely need more beauty sleep." Dean messed up his hair more as he passed, and shuddered, "Scary."

Sam tried to decide whether he'd use the water to sooth his throat, or just to pour over his brother's head.

As soon as Dean left the room, Sam checked out the zipper tabs on Dean's backpack. Sure enough, they were in the exact same position as Sam had set them when they'd come home from school. No way that would've happened by accident. So, just as Sam had suspected, the late night hushed voices hadn't been discussing homework. Dad, maybe, but why was Dean keeping secrets from him too?

Dean suddenly appeared back in the room, handing him the water and grabbing his toothbrush from the dresser. "Dude, what's with your obsession with my backpack?

Sam just shrugged his shoulders and headed back to his bed, floor squeaking all the way.

Dean paused for a minute, and Sam felt his brother's gaze traveling over him, "Hey, short stuff – maybe I can get another camo bag next time we hit the surplus store. If so, you can have mine."

A grunt was all the response he got for his effort.

Sam crawled back into bed and tried to get comfortable. If he faced the wall, he laid on the ear that was hurting, which just made it that much worse. But if he laid on his back, he ended up with drainage all down the back of his extremely raw throat. He wasn't about to turn to face Dean and have him think he wanted to talk. He kicked at his sheets and then stilled. If he showed he was hot, Dean would be all over him.

A month or two ago, he would have told Dean that he felt like crap, and Dean would have taken care of him - brought him some Tylenol and a throat lozenge. Dean had even made Dad take him to the doctor the last few times he'd felt this bad – making a big deal about it and all. Not this time, Sam decided. He didn't even know what they'd been talking about, but they had been keeping things from him, and that was enough for Sam to want to keep things from them, too.

Dean finished his nighttime routine and crawled into bed, snapping the light off along the way. "G'night Sammy," Dean offered. But Sam pretended he was already asleep.

* * *

By the time Sam got up, courtesy of Dean's grazing him with his unused backpack, he realized he was already running twenty minutes late. "Morning, Rip. Ya' got ten whole minutes to be ready for school now. And you know Dad's not going to wait for you."

"Me?" Sam choked on the word and swallowed. If anything, his throat was worse.

Fortunately, Dean had already turned to grab his jacket. "Dad's got a job next state over. It's just you and me runt, for the next four days. But if you get it in gear, he'll drop us off at school on the way."

Great, they were being left alone again. Ever since Dean had turned 10, Dad had been leaving them alone more and more as he took jobs out of town. And Sam was old enough to know that other dad's didn't do this – at least not leaving their kids alone. But he knew the 'Winchester Rules', foremost of which was – 'We do what we do, and we shut up about it.'

They always had to pretend Dad was home even when he wasn't. Don't make a scene, don't get into trouble, don't bring any attention on yourself. All so nobody would find out that they spent a lot of time on their own now.

He didn't understand why, but both Dad and Dean said that their Dad's work was really important and this was the only way it could be done. So Sam had learned to accept that Dad did what he did, and Sam shut up about it.

Pushing himself slowly off the bed, Sam was frustrated that he wouldn't be able to take a shower, his sweat-damped pajamas sticking uncomfortably to his chest and legs. And now he'd just have to run some water over his chest and face, get dressed and head out. He felt exhausted, and his throat and ear had decided to ratchet it up a notch overnight. Sam looked around, but couldn't find any Tylenol and wasn't about to ask.

Before he could look further, Dean came back in, grabbed his bookbag and headed for the door. "Five minutes, squirt. I'll grab you a muffin and some juice for the road. Just," and he waited for Sam to look at him, "…don't make Dad wait."

Sam grunted his agreement, and turned before Dean could see the pain register on his face.

* * *

One of the advantages to being the new kid was that it made it fairly easy to get through the day without having to talk to anyone. Lunch was the only exception. He'd recently met another kid who was a bit of a loner. Nick was a quiet kid – crazy smart, but with minimal self-confidence, and a border-line hypchondriac. His lack of social skills, as far as Sam was concerned, were more than offset by the unusual stories he could come up with or obscure trivia he knew.

Sam enjoyed the conversations they'd have. Today, though, Sam wasn't up for any talk. Still feeling hot and exhausted, with his ear and throat killing him, he could barely keep his head up. He was trying to swallow down some yogurt when Nick nudged him, "Not feeling good?"

Sam glanced across the table, "I'm good," and took another cautious spoonful of yogurt.

"Oh yeah," Nick laughed incredulously, "You sound good. Yogurt, juice, and the way you're swallowing …I'd say you had a wicked ass sore throat."

A half-smile curled up the corner of Sam's mouth, but he just shook his head.

"And the way you're holding your ear while you're sitting there …."

Sam dropped his arm and sat up straighter.

"…it's driving you crazy too, huh?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I'm fine," he managed, struggling not to wince as he said it.

"Uh huh." Nick sat staring at Sam thoughtfully as Sam tried to look as healthy as he could.

"Your hair's sticking to your forehead …," Nick continued on as if he were already the doctor he planned to be, "… so that means you have a fever." Sam grimaced and rolled his eyes at his friend.

Suddenly Nick's hand shot out towards Sam's throat. Without even thinking, Sam knocked it away - hard.

Nick grabbed his wrist and glared at his companion. "That really hurt." He rolled his wrist a couple of times. "I guess it's not broken. Sprained maybe." He touched it again experimentally, and Sam just shrugged a half-hearted apology.

"What were..?" Sam croaked.

"I just wanted to know if the glands in your throat were swollen."

Sam scowled.

"Well, it matters. How many times have you had this in the past couple of years?"

Sam thought back. Yes, he guessed he'd had it a few times. Each time, Dean was getting more annoying in taking care of it. They'd actually been to the doctor for those – not a common experience in the Winchester household. So Sam showed three, then four .. shrugged and showed five fingers.

"Yep, that's what I thought." Nick looked very self-satisfied. "Guess you'll be going to the hospital soon."

Sam looked up, alarmed, and almost choked on his yogurt. He raised both eyebrows at the other boy.

"Yep. You have tonsillitis. Same thing happened to both my brother and me. A few ear aches, a few sore throats, and next thing you know, they have to remove your tonsils – well adenoids usually – and sometimes your tonsils too."

Tonsillitis. Sam had heard the doc mention that at some point last time his throat hurt. He sure as hell hadn't told him that he'd have to go to a hospital and get his tonsils out! Sam stared over at Nick, who was happily digging into his hamburger now that he'd solved Sam's issue.

Sam kicked him under the table, rolling his outstretched hand for more information.

"Well, actually, I had to get both my adenoids and my tonsils out, while my brother only had to get his adenoids out. Not much difference, though mine hurt a lot more and longer." Nick swallowed again as if to determine if he might have caught it again. Then he smiled to himself, "But hey, I got to stay home from school for a week, and Mom let me lay on the couch and watch TV all day, and she brought me milkshakes and ice cream whenever I wanted it. All my aunts and uncles and cousins stopped by and brought me gifts. Other than the operation, it was pretty cool!"

An operation – in a hospital? Outside of 'We do what we do and we shut up about it', Sam had learned recently that one of the other hard and fast Winchester Rules was apparently 'Thou shalt not go to a hospital'.

Earlier that year, their dad had come home bleeding and semi-conscious from one of his jobs. Dean didn't think he knew about it since Sam had been asleep earlier, but when Sam heard the noises and snuck down the hallway to see what was going on, he had seen how badly his dad was hurt. Dean was so busy helping their dad he hadn't noticed Sam watching terrified from the hallway.

Dean unwrapped three long deep slices on their Dad's leg, and was practically begging to let him take him to the hospital, but all Dad kept saying was, "No hospital, Dean – you know that." He made Dean sew him up himself. Sam watched until he couldn't take it anymore and he weaved back to the bathroom to throw up.

Since then Sam had realized that no matter how badly Dad got injured on his jobs, and no matter how much medical help his brother had to provide, a hospital had not been an option.

"Hey," Nick poked Sam's arm, "you should go see the school nurse. She'll call your mom and she can come get you and take care of you."

Sam looked quickly back up at Nick. "No,' he emphatically whispered, "I'm fine. Really."

"Sure you are Sam," Nick shook his head fondly at his misguided friend, "Don't worry, once it's over, I'll get you a card too."

* * *

So, what do you think? Any comments would be truly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Winchester Rules**

by Visionairy

Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and his dad are keeping something from him. And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

By the end of the day, lethargy had won out, and Sam's head sank down to rest on his desk while he read his final assignment. When his teacher spotted him, she leaned down next to him. "Sam, you don't look like you feel so good. If you want, you could leave class and visit the school nurse."

Realizing his error, Sam immediately slid up in his seat and tried his best to look healthy, "No," he swallowed roughly, "I'm fine." However choking on the words wasn't very convincing. Ms. Tanner appeared ready to pursue the issue, but was interrupted when the class bell rang. Sam stood up, grabbed his bag and gave a quick half-smile to his teacher before he hurriedly sidestepped two kids and slid out the door.

He walked quickly away and turned down the next hall before stopping at the drinking fountain to catch his breath and let the cool liquid appease his raw throat. Swallowing it was really hard, but still worth it. Did Nick really know what he was talking about? Well, usually he did. Thinking back to what Nick had said at lunch, Sam looked around to make sure nobody was looking, then he quickly checked his neck, and was unhappy to find that there were indeed swollen areas on either side of his throat. And his ear was killing him.

Sam grabbed his bag and hefted it back up on his shoulder, and with a determined stance headed for the door. He was a Winchester, and no stupid sore ear or throat was going to send him to the hospital. Winchesters didn't do hospitals. Winchesters hardly ever did doctors – and if Sam ever wanted to be treated like his older brother, he wasn't going to use doctors either.

"Saaaammy …" Dean drawled as Sam came up beside him. As usual, Dean was hanging out at the corner with some of his friends while he waited for Sam to arrive. They were a rowdy group, but treated Sam well enough.

Sidestepping Dean's casual punch to the shoulder, Sam started walking ahead knowing Dean would shortly follow. If he could avoid trying to talk to Dean on the way home, he could bury himself in his books for the rest of the night, and Dean would be none the wiser.

"Hey, Speed Racer .." Dean's voice called from behind, "… where're you off to in such a hurry?"

Sam twisted back and shrugged but kept walking, deliberately slowing his pace. He didn't want Dean to get suspicious. And it seemed that Dean always got suspicious.

Dean caught up in a few strides and ruffled his hair. "Hey, Squirt – want some pizza tonight? Dad left enough for a large this time." Dean was hungry all the time lately, and one of them always went hungry on a medium. Course they had to stick with plain cheese, but it was still a major treat. But today, the thought of pizza sauce on his miserable throat made Sam cringe. He couldn't think of an excuse to tell Dean though, and not wanting to rob his brother of the pleasure he just "Um-hm'd" and walked on.

They continued on in companionable silence till they were almost two blocks from home when Dean had to ask him how his math test went. Rather than answer in his croaky voice Sam evaded the question. Spearing Dean with a pair of raised eyebrows in challenge, he took off for home. Dean quickly took him up on it, loping close behind him until they were only a couple of houses away. Then Dean easily overtook him to scale the steps three at a time, nonetheless waiting for Sam to try touch the door first.

Just as Sam arrived, Dean threw the door open for him. "J'rk," Sam forced out as he side-slammed into his brother when they shoved through the door.

Dean laughed easily, throwing his bookbag onto the chipped countertop while Sam tried to recover from the effect the minor contact had on his recently throbbing ear. Heading for the fridge, Sam felt winded from the short run, and could feel the air rushing painfully in and out of his throat. Inside, despite all his efforts to the contrary, he still felt like the little kid who wanted his brother to make a blanket fort for him on the sofa, bring him medicine, juice and pudding, and then lean up next to him and watch stupid action movies till he fell asleep.

Pulling open the fridge to get something cold to ease his throat, Sam realized that the liquid contents were limited to a handful of beers, a half empty bottle of Coke, and a quart of milk. Sam picked up the milk, but it weighed far less than it needed to to provide a good glassful.

Turning back Sam just barely reacted in time to catch a bag of potato chips flying in his direction. "So," Dean fished out the bottle of Coke and took a long swallow, "…running – before or after pizza?"

Ever since Sam had turned six, Dad had started having him run with Dean every day, either before or after school depending on the season. Dean, being older, had been assigned additional laps as well as sit-ups and push-ups. Sam didn't understand. They both had PE in school, so why did they have to do it at home, too? Especially today … if Sam could feel any worse, he wasn't sure how. His face obviously dropped because Dean stepped closer, "You don't look so good – you feeling okay?"

Sam twisted away and grabbed his backpack and whispered as loud as he could, "Lots of homework 's all."

"What?" Dean turned to follow him when the phone rang. Sam escaped to their room as he heard Dean answer with a 'Yes, Sir'.

Saved by the bell, again, Sam sat on his bed and pulled out his math homework. Over the past hour, his ear had gone from achy and sensitive to downright painful. He laid down and then rolled over to put some pressure on it, but that hurt - a lot, so he rolled over to the other side, but that only helped minutely. Maybe he _should_ tell Dean. He never remembered his ear hurting this much. But he didn't want to move, and his throat was too raw to yell. Keeping secrets really sucked – on both sides. A traitorous tear leaked it's way out of one eye, rolled down over his nose and dripped on the pillow.

Sam slid down on the bed, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get control, but that just forced more tears out. He was too old to act like this. How could he prove that he was old enough to help Dad and Dean if he couldn't take care of himself. Pushing his hand onto the area around the painful ear, he didn't hear the door open, and yelped when Dean sat down on the bed next to him.

"Hey, hey – easy, Sammy – what's wrong?" Dean observed his brother curled nearly into a fetal position with one hand cradling his ear.

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gently started prying his hand away to get a better look at the problem. "Let me look at you, did you hurt yourself?"

"No," Sam tried to put his hand back in place protecting his ear.

Dean's hand locked around Sam's wrist and pulled a little harder, "Then why won't you let me look at it?"

"No, Dean," he rasped as he scrambled as far to the back of the bed as he could until his back hit the wall.

Looking his brother over carefully, Dean noticed the smudges on his face and the red blotches on his cheeks. "You're sick, aren't you?"

Sam looked down and studied his folded knee before shaking his head.

"No, Sammy, look at me." He let go of his wrist and squeezed his shoulder, "Come on, little bro. You don't look so good. What's wrong?

Sam tried to shrug off his hand while continuing to stare at the fraying cuff of his pants.

Dean moved his hand under Sam's chin and pressed his head up. "Hey, what's going on?" When Sam didn't respond, Dean's voice dropped into his new even lower tenor – a sign of the seriousness of his brother's request. "Sammy, tell me what's wrong with you."

Lightly shrugging his shoulders, Sam finally looked directly at Dean and whispered, "My ear hurts a little."

"Well, let me look at it." Dean reached out and tugged Sam closer. Finally relenting, Sam gradually eased his hand away as Dean looked closer, "How long has it been hurting?'

"Couple of days," Sam whispered softly.

"Couple of days? Why didn't you say something?" The heat from his brother's body registered with Dean as he struggled to get a good look in his ear. Putting his hand across his forehead confirmed his suspicions. "Wait here a sec, I've gotta find a flashlight."

Running into the other room, Dean returned quickly with a flashlight in one hand, and a thermometer in the other.

Sticking the thermometer in his brother's mouth, Dean levered his hand away again and took a look in Sam's ear. It was hard to see, but when he moved the light around, it was clear that it was red and puffy. Really red and puffy. He pulled the side back to get a better view, but it just resulted in a whimper from below.

"Damn it, Sam! Your ear looks really bad. Remember what the doc said last time this happened. You have to catch these early, or they just get worse. He said your ear drum could burst. Shit."

Looking dejectedly up at his brother, Sam put his hand protectively back over his ear and pressed.

The tiny beep went off and Dean didn't wait for Sam to hand it to him, anxiously pulling it out to take a look. "102?" He looked back down accusingly at his little brother. "102.4 Sam, that's not good."

Dean reached down and grabbed up the flashlight again. "Open up. Come on, dude. Let me see your throat, too."

Sam silently opened his mouth for the examination.

Dean tried to get a good angle to see down his throat, "Come on, Sam - say Ahhhhh"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, "Ahhhgh"

Spots! There were tiny white spots all over the back of Sam's throat.

This was bad, Dean knew that much. He'd already been to the doctor several times with a sick Sam – and the doc had made it clear that if it kept happening it could get really painful very fast. Last time, which wasn't even that long ago, the doctor had spent some time lecturing their dad about catching these things faster, even mentioning the likelihood of tonsillitis and even rupturing an ear drum.

Dean had tried to keep a closer eye on his brother, but why hadn't Sam said anything? And now the doctor's offices would be closed, and he didn't have a damn thing that would take care of it. Frustration was building up in Dean until he looked back down at his brother's face and saw the misery there.

"Okay, alright." He stood up and walked around the room. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll take care of this." He stopped at the dresser and looked at the thermometer again. "Just, I have to get you to a doctor."

TBC

* * *

So, what are your thoughts on this chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

**Winchester Rules**

_by Visionairy_

Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and his dad are keeping something from him. And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.

Dedicated to KKBelvis and based on her story, A Spot to Remember. You really should check out that story, as well as all of her work!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"_Okay, alright." He stood up and walked around the room. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll take care of this." He stopped at the dresser and looked at the thermometer again. "Just, I have to get you to a doctor."_

"No doctors,' Sam whispered vehemently. "No hospitals!"

"What?" Dean's voice got louder. "What are you talking about – of course you have to see a doctor. This is bad, Sam."

A scratchy whisper followed, "It doesn't hurt that much."

"Uh huh." Dean stood over his brother, "Tell that to someone who believes it, 'cause it's not flying with me." Dropping down on the bed next to him, Dean felt either side of Sam's throat. "Oh great, and your glands are all swollen, too."

Sam tried to scramble back again, but Dean blocked his escape. "No way, Sam. If that gets any worse, you'll screw up your hearing, and you don't mess with that. I just need to figure out how to get you to a doctor."

"I'm not a little kid, Dean." Sam's voice was getting worse, but he was determined to be heard, "You and Dad don't go to doctors … so, I don't go either. I can handle pain."

"What are you talking about?" Dean smacked Sam on his shoulder, "You are a pain, you don't need to _handle_ pain. And of course we go to the doctor – when we need to."

"No," Sam forced out, "You don't." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "I hear Dad when he's hurt. He tells you he's not going to the hospital. Even when you've tried everything to get him to go. I know. So I'm not a little kid, and I don't need to go."

Dean's shoulders slumped. "Aw, Sammy. That's not the same thing. You're only eight, you…"

"I'm not a kid! And I don't need to go to the doctor. I'm fine." He grabbed Dean's arm and pinned him with a stare, "I'm old enough to be a full part of the family now."

Dean's forehead furrowed, "What do you mean, 'full part of the family'. Of course you're part of the family you idiot. Now stop talking and rest your throat."

"No, I'm not, Dean. There's always different rules for me. I don't want it anymore. I'm tired of being left out of everything. You and Dad, you always discuss everything when I'm not there." He swallowed roughly, but forged on, "I can be a part of it now. I'm old enough to follow the family rules - I know how to be careful and not talk about Dad being out of town for work. I'm old enough to take care of myself when I'm sick. And," he nodded at Dean, "I'm old enough to be included in the talks with you and Dad."

Dean shook his head, "Look, Sammy, you're not …"

"So," Sam interrupted and leveled his most solemn stare at Dean. "… I'm old enough that I don't need to go to a docto'…," but he broke off when his voice just gave out on him.

Dean reached over and gently pushed at his sibling's shoulders, trying to guide him back down to the pillow. "Easy, buddy. Okay, you're not a kid. You're right … I know that."

Sam pushed back to stay up, and suddenly screamed, slamming his hand against his ear.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders and tried to figure out what was going on.

"Aghhh … h'rts …," He kept a death grip on the painful ear.

Dean tried to lever Sam's hand arm away so he could take a look, but he wouldn't budge. "Sammy, you gotta let me look".

Sam's face suddenly looked confused, and then alarmed eyes flew up to his brother's face.

Dean didn't wait for Sam to comply this time. He grabbed the smaller arm and pried it away from Sam's ear as he grabbed the flashlight. Some blood and pus was draining from his ear.

"Oh God, Sammy… I think it burst." He shined the flashlight in. "I can't tell, but where else would that be coming from." He grabbed a tissue and brought it back up to blot at his brother's ear. "How are you feeling?"

Sam's horrified face eased a little. He shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head hesitantly. "Not bad," he whispered, concentrating.

Dean's voice dropped again. "Don't give me that 'I'm an adult' bullshit. How much does it really hurt?"

Sam looked a little confused as he whispered, "No, Dean … it really does feel better."

Dean shook his head, "Why doesn't that make me feel any better." He got up and started to pace, "Shit, it probably burst." He turned and pointed to his brother. "I'm taking you to the ER – now. No discussion."

Sam shook his head emphatically and pushed further against the wall. "What if…"

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder, "What about quit talking don't you understand? Hang on." Dean walked over to his backpack and sorted through it till he found an old notebook and pen. Handing them to Sam, he stood next to the bed and waited.

Sam scribbled fast, "What if they want to take my tonsils out?"

Dean shook his head trying to figure out his confusing sibling, "Well, then you get them taken out."

Sam shook his head and wrote some more. "Dad would be mad." Dean had just finished reading it when Sam snatched it back and added, "You and Dad won't go to the hospital."

"Sam, that's crazy." Dean reached over and handed his brother the glass of water still sitting by his bed.

Sam took a sip, and whispered, "No, Dean - I know. Just before we left Ohio when Dad came home with his leg bleeding all over…" Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Sam didn't let him. No matter how much his throat hurt now, he had to get this out, "You both don't think I know, but I hear, and I see. You were even begging him to go the hospital and he wouldn't do it."

Dean dropped down onto the bed and tried to come up with an explanation that would make sense.

Sam just took another quick sip and went on. "Look, I get it. We don't have the money. That's fine, Well, I don't need to go to the hospital either."

"The money?" Dean would have smacked his brother again if it he didn't look so pitiful, "We can get the money, you don't need to worry about that."

"Of course I do," Sam countered, "I'm old enough be part of the family business – and that includes worrying about the money."

Dean was getting frustrated. They didn't have the time for this right now. "That's not why Dad doesn't go to the hospital you idjet."

"Yeah, right," Sam crossed his arms, "… so you're just both afraid to go?"

Dean shook his head, "Sam, there are some things that you just … " his hand rotated in a circular motion.

Sam leaned forward, "What?"

Dean paused for a second and looked away, trying to decide just what to say.

Sam stared quietly at his brother for a time before whispering, "Dean, what won't you tell me?"

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but after a second closed it again, shook his head and stood up. "Nothing, squirt. But I am telling you that you need to go to the doctor because hearing and high fevers are not something Winchesters can mess with."

"Right," Sam glared back at his brother, "…but bleeding out is?"

"Look, Sammy. I can sew up a leg or an arm. I can't sew up an ear … or your tonsils for that matter. What if they do need to come out?"

Sam's stomach twisted. But despite the way he felt, Sam wasn't ready to give in. He turned his head and repeated as loud as he could whisper, "Winchesters don't go to the hospital."

Dean's volume increased as well, "They do in an emergency!"

Sam grabbed the notebook and scribbled, "Well this isn't one."

Dean stepped up to tower over his brother, "An emergency is when I say it's an emergency."

Sam glared right back and wrote in large black letters, "You can't drive."

Dean threw a challenging look back at his brother, "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam's adrenaline was waning, "…well you're not supposed to." Sliding down on the bed till his head hit the pillow, his face lit briefly when he whispered, "No car."

Dean walked over to the dresser and back again. The kid was right. Someday soon Dad was going to have to get a car of his own, cause Dean needed the Impala. "Yeah, well the bus stop is two blocks away." He looked down at the miserable guy on the bed. "Don't worry. I'm calling Dad now, and he'll come home."

"He'll be mad."

"He'll be more upset if something happens to you, Sammy." Dean stopped his pacing for a minute and sat down next to his sibling and brushed the bangs off his sticky forehead, "Don't worry, I'll explain it to him. Look, Sammy. I don't care how old you are. Even if you were 25, I'd still do this to you. I'm never going to risk anything with you just because it's not convenient for us to go to a doctor. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and go." He tilted his brother's chin up to look at him. "It doesn't mean you're little or weak, it just means you're sick. Got it?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay, then," Dean stood up and headed for the door. "Lay down, hold that tissue to your ear, and I'll be back in a few." Turning, he waited for Sam to comply. Sam carefully laid back against the pillows Dean had stacked behind him and exaggeratedly put the tissue over his ear. "Good, now stay like that." At the door, he turned and added, "…and when you're feeling better, we'll talk about your crazy ideas then."

Dean came back in a few minutes later. "Dad didn't answer, but I got hold of Pastor Jim. He'll keep trying until he gets through to Dad." He checked Sam's ear again and gave him a clean tissue. "Okay, then," he rifled through his top drawer of their dresser till he came up with their emergency stash – an envelope which contained some cash and the latest 'insurance' card, and a small worn pocket-sized notebook. Pocketing them, he grabbed Sam's jacket and helped him get up off the bed, "Let's go get you fixed up."

tbc

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What did you think of this chapter?


	4. Chapter 4

Winchester Rules

_by Visionairy_

Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and his dad are keeping something from him. And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

By the time they walked the two blocks to the bus stop, and rode on the bus for three miles before waiting in the cold for the next bus and then boarding it for an additional six mile ride, Sam was miserable and Dean was already planning how to waste the lady in the next seat over. She had loudly ventured her opinion about traveling on public transportation with a kid that was obviously sick and undoubtedly highly contagious. Sam had originally sat up and tried to look healthy, but eventually ended up leaning heavily against Dean - more in an effort, he told himself, to make sure Dean didn't take a swing at the older woman, then a need for Dean's support when he felt so awful.

Dean fumed, his hand twisting in and out of a fist. He already knew that this was no way to treat his little brother when he was feeling this sick, and he sure as hell didn't want Sammy having to listen to the witch across the isle complain about his germs. But he would do whatever was necessary to get Sammy taken care of. He tightened his arm protectively around his little brother. Unfortunately, calling 9-1-1 would have been overkill, and would have caused the same problem as calling any adults to drive them. Anybody he got involved would want to know where their dad was.

Finally the bus pulled up to the stop for St. Mary's Hospital. Nudging his brother, Dean helped Sam out into the isle before backing purposefully into the lady across from them and knocking all her packages over into the isle. Smirking as hear her curse, Dean helped Sam carefully off the bus. As Sam looked around to see where to cross, he noticed Dean smiling and gesturing appropriately at the old bat glaring down at them as the bus pulled away.

Sam shook his head and moved forward to cross the street, weaving ominously to one side.

"Hold up, Sammy." Dean grabbed his brother's jacket. "You going to make it? You look like you've had a few too many."

"Dizzy," Sam groaned.

"I gotcha little man," Dean pulled him close to his side, "Let's try crossing in a straight line, okay?"

Wilting against his brother, Sam let Dean guide him across the street and into the main entrance of the hospital. When Dean stopped at the front desk to ask for the quickest route to the Emergency Room, the perky blond attendant at the desk glanced briefly down at Sam, before focusing back on Dean. "Rough night, huh?" She smiled sweetly at Dean and pointed down the hall. "Cute little kid. Pediatric Emergency room is off this hall, three doors down on your left." She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned forward. "Stop by later if you want anything else." She shot a dismissive look back to Sam, "Hope the little guy's feeling better soon."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, and Dean glared back at her. "Sam doesn't need Pediatrics," he declared, "…which way to General Emergency?"

Wondering what she'd done wrong, the girl hastily gestured down the hall, "Uh …, fourth door down on the right."

Dean nodded. Throwing his arm casually over Sam's shoulder, they headed down the hall. A few feet down the hall Dean heard a muffled, "Thanks, Dean." … and grinned.

As soon as Dean got Sam signed in, Dean looked around the waiting room for the closest pay phone.

"Over here, buddy." Dean guided his brother over to the closest group of chairs, took his jacket off and made a pillow out of it for him. Sam eased back into the chair and leaned on the armrest, grimacing as he tried to find a comfortable position. Dean quickly checked him over again and then looked back over at the triage door. It looked like there were quite a few people that were waiting ahead of them.

Making sure Sam was settled and relatively comfortable, Dean grabbed some coins from his pocket and dialed the number for Pastor Jim. Despite several attempts, Jim hadn't been able to get hold of their dad yet either, but at least the Pastor had been available when Dean had called from home.

"Thanks! " Dean's sincerity was clear. "They agreed that you can fax in your signature for permission to treat him. They'll accept that for now. And you were right, they do want to be able to talk to you 'Dad', so can you stay by the phone?" He looked at his watch again. "I don't know how long it'll be till they get to us."

"Of course, Dean. I won't go anywhere until your dad gets there." Dean was glad that even though the Pastor was a man of the cloth, he still recognized the necessity to use any means possible to make sure Sammy got treated right away.

Dean hesitated and looked around to see if anyone could hear him. "What if we can't get ahold of …?"

Jim understood Dean's concern. "Then I'll come out there. But, right now your dad's only a few hours away, and he'll check in soon." The pastor's calm voice was just what Dean needed to hear. "I'm sure he'll be there before you know it."

Once Dean gave him the fax number, and assured the Pastor that he'd call as soon as he knew anything, he rushed back over toward his brother. Luckily, Sam was temporarily engrossed in an old Indiana Jones movie playing on the crappy waiting room TV - so Dean decided to make a slight detour to the vending machines that lined the wall. Scrounging through his pockets, he came up with enough money for an ice cream sandwich and a bottled water.

When he got back, Sam had slouched further down in the seat until his head was resting against the hard plastic. "Here, Sammy … eat up." Dean dropped the small package of ice cream on his brother's lap. "This'll feel pretty good on that delicate throat of yours."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean smiled and held up the bottled water as well. "Something to wash it down with?"

Dean settled in the seat next to Sam, bunching up his old leather jacket against his shoulder and pulling Sam over to lean against it. Being careful not to drip any ice cream, Sam relaxed into his brother's side.

* * *

The movie ended, and Dean checked his watch for the 8th time in the past five minutes and glanced around the waiting room. They'd already been waiting for over an hour, and Dean's patience was gone. As far as he could tell, there were two more people ahead of them before they'd be called back. His hand drifted down once again to check his brother's rising fever.

Feeling his forehead still hot and damp, Dean pushed the water back into his brother's hand. "Drink," he ordered.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, but complied. Dean watched him for a minute and then adjusted the coat to give him more support. "Sammy," Dean hesitated until his brother looked up, "You've always been a full part of this family. You know that, right?"

Sam gave him a rueful smile and shrugged.

Dean's eyes flashed away for a moment, and then focused back on Sam. "Dad and I, sometimes we have to talk about other stuff, but it's nothing you'd want to know about. It's only about his job and stuff."

Sam had his doubts. Yeah, actually, he did want to know about it, and he still didn't like being the one left out. After all, what kind of job couldn't they talk about in front of him?

"But you're right, my man. You are growing up…" Dean paused and then smirked at his little brother curled up into a compact ball next to him, "…well you're maturing, anyway." Sam rolled his eyes again, "...and when you get taken care of here, I'll talk to Dad about it. Maybe there are some more ways you can help out … be more involved."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Maybe Dean was right. That could be the first step. If he could help out more, then his dad would see him more like he did Dean rather than just like a little kid – and possibly treat him that way.

Sam took another tiny swallow and then whispered, "Why no hospitals?"

"Winchester Rules," Dean declared. "Dad avoids ER's whenever possible because, you know, we do what we do, and we shut up about it."

"Yeah," Sam roughly protested, "… so if those 'r the rules, why'd you take _me_ here?"

Dean smiled a cocky grin at his brother and pointed at him, "Because you forgot the two most important Winchester Rules." Dean counted them off on his fingers, "One – 'Family Comes First'.

Sam nodded in agreement.

"And Two …" Dean dropped his hand down to Sam's shoulder. "…'We Take Care of our Own'." He waited, "Right?"

Sam shifted in his seat but nodded again.

Dean shook his head and sighed. "Sammy, you gotta know that there's no way in hell we're going to let you get really sick just to avoid a hospital. That'd be stupid."

Despite feeling like his throat was going to bleed, Sam couldn't let it go. "Dad does."

Dean didn't have a good answer for that. "Dad's Dad. He made me go the doctor when I broke my arm last year."

Sam slowly nodded.

"And you, big man, are going to have to be more upfront with us when you're sick or hurting, or there'll be trouble in your future!"

The edge of Sam's mouth curled up as he pointed to Dean's head and mouthed, "You're not psychic."

"Oh yes, I am." Dean assured. "… and if you play your cards right, I can see Frosty's and ice cream, and all sorts of great treats in our future."

Sam raised his eyebrows, gesturing between them as he mouthed, "Our future?"

"What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't test your food first to make sure it wouldn't hurt that girly little throat of yours."

Sam started to laugh, which turned into a cringe when both his ear and throat rebelled at the motion.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean dropped down to squat in front of him.

Sam just folded against his brother. Now, he decided, wasn't the time to bring up the Winchester 'No Hugging' rule.

Dean didn't move until Sam self-consciously pushed himself back up into the chair, then Dean slid back into the chair next to him. Sam squirmed a bit trying to get comfortable in the hard chair, but Dean just pulled him close again. "Sit still, Marcel," he ordered. "New Winchester Rule – 'Sometimes Even Big Guys Need Someone to Lean On'."

Dean, Sam decided, may actually be psychic. He thought back to what Nick had said earlier and felt a lot better. He didn't really need a mom to take care of him when he had a big brother who knew exactly how to take care of his own.

* * *

Finally, Sam's name was called.

Based primarily on his previous medical history, which Dean had meticulously documented in his notebook down to the symptoms, medications and dates - Sam's doctor determined that he did indeed need to get both his adenoids and tonsils taken out as soon as possible. That was the bad news.

The good news was that this doctor was willing to talk to their 'dad' over the phone and accepted his faxed signature as permission to treat him. Dean, moreover, was overwhelmingly relieved to hear that even though Sam's eardrum had ruptured, the doc said that given time and care, it would heal fully and no loss of hearing should occur.

Despite Dean's efforts, the surgery, scheduled for 9 am the next morning, was going to be done by a the staff Pediatric Surgeon. Despite Sam's grumbling, Dean agreed with his 'Dad' and the doctor that they should do whatever was best for his brother's health.

Dean still asked that Sam not be sent to the Pediatrics recovery ward, insisting that waking up to Little Bo Peep on one wall and clowns covering the other would be guaranteed to set back his brothers' recovery indefinitely.

And thanks to Pastor Jim's persistent efforts, John arrived the next morning just in time for the pre-surgery check-in with the surgeon and the anesthesiologist just before the procedure. By the time they'd given Sam the painkillers for his throat and ear, and a mild sedative before the anesthesia, Sam was already acting groggy and slightly drunk – which despite the situation, highly amused the middle Winchester.

Surprisingly, to Sam, their dad's expression looked a lot more concerned than angry. And when he put his hand on Sam's arm and ruffled his other hand through his hair as he talked with the doctors, Sam gratefully relaxed into it

When the time was up, and Sam's bed was being unlocked to move out of the room, Sam's hand had to be gently pried off his brother's arm. Dean stepped back and leaned against his Dad, biting at the skin next to his thumbnail. Sam rolled his head to watch them, "S'okay Dean," Sam whispered loudly, and a goofy smile appeared, " 'Member new rule…" He used his finger to point between Dean and their dad, "Even Winchesters need someone t' lean on."

When Dean immediately stiffened and started to pull away, John grabbed his shoulder and held him close. "Sam's got that one right, Dean. Maybe you can let me lean on you for a little while longer."

* * *

As soon as Sam made it out of recovery, he was in a wheelchair and then on his way home. Dean thought that major surgery shouldn't be treated so casually and objected to the status of outpatient, but their dad and the doctors assured him that Sam didn't need to stay any longer - he was going to be fine.

To Sam's mortification, however, half way home they had to pull over to the side of the road so he could throw up. He never did do well with medication. Dean cringed as he steadied Sam, imagining how much that must hurt. The doctors had said the anesthesia might make him nauseous, but Sam must have still had some good drugs in his system, since he just fell back asleep as soon as he got back in.

By Friday night, Dad was already packed up to finish the job he'd had to leave earlier. And despite Dean's opinion, Sam was released by his doctor to go back to school on Monday. Sam wasn't sure if Dean had had a chance to talk to their dad yet about including him in future family meetings, but he trusted his brother. He just hoped his dad would agree. Meanwhile he'd work hard to prove that he deserved it, and was willing to be patient – for now.

Walking up to the couch where Sam was ensconced, John ruffled his hair. "Okay, I'm heading out now. Take care of yourself, Sam, and don't give your brother a hard time." He squeezed Sam's shoulder, "Just take your meds when you need to and do exactly what he says."

Dean stood slightly behind their dad dramatically nodding and miming everything their dad was saying.

"And Dean," John turned quickly to face his first-born. "The ice cream is for Sammy."

Sam nodded back at Dean enthusiastically and grinned as Dean smirked.

John picked up his bag from the floor and tossed it to Dean, "Here, help me out with this stuff, kiddo." Dean followed closely as the kitchen door closed behind them.

From his spot on the couch, Sam could hear their dad grilling Dean at the door. "So, do you have everything you need?"

Sam couldn't quite make out Dean's response, but he could still hear his dad's booming voice.

"Enough money for food, juice and ice cream? What's the schedule for Sam's meds?"

Dean must have responded appropriately as his dad continued.

"Don't forget all the rules." He heard the door open, and then the last one. "And what's the most important rule?"

Sam wished he could have heard his brother's reply.

Shortly after the front door slammed closed, and the rumble of the Impala was fading away, Dean came into the room baring a large bowl of chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup running down the sides.

Sam shifted to make room for his brother on the worn blue coach. His throat was still sore, but it didn't hurt nearly as much now as it had before the surgery. "Dean," he ventured. He hadn't meant to let on that he was listening, but curiosity won out, "What did _Dad_ just say is the most important Winchester Rule?"

Dean shoved him over and snagged the short blanket for his own comfort – a sure sign, Sam knew, that he was doing better. "You _KNOW_ what the most important rule is, right, Sammy?"

Sam groaned before responding in a practiced monotone, "Family first …"

Dean grinned and motioned for Sam to go on. Sam rolled his eyes and continued, "… meaning older brothers get the ice cream first."

Dean nodded approvingly before offering Sam a spoon, "See, there's hope for you yet."

Subtly palming an ice cube out of the top of his drink, Sam leaned forward to take the spoon, then quickly dropped the frozen cube down the back of Dean's shirt.

"And," pointing to his throat, he put his hands up in submission before laying back and smirking up at his squirming older brother, "… we take care of our own."

The End

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Well, that's it. I hope you liked it. If you get a chance, let me know what thought. Thanks!


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